


Heartache to Heartache

by LunarAsylum



Series: Royal Blood Series [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Conversations, Drinking & Talking, Implied Relationships, M/M, Nympho! Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarAsylum/pseuds/LunarAsylum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel pursues Dean into a bar to have a little chat... supposedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartache to Heartache

**Author's Note:**

  * For [In_Factorem_Verba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Factorem_Verba/gifts).



> Here's another prompt story in my Royal Blood series. <3 I'm going to have a lot of fun adding in various pieces to this series to give you guys a general idea of where the story is going to go and be about. Most of these will either be scenes that gap between chapters, or some will end up being back story on a character. <3 Enjoy loves!

“Are you fucking following me?” Dean snapped, turning his head to look at the raven-haired man now sitting next to him. It almost seemed that over the course of the past week, he had run into the man more often than not when out in public.

 

“What? No, are you saying I'm a stalker?” Castiel asked, arching an eyebrow as he rested his cheek against his hand. It squished his face unattractively, which only furthered Dean's urge to punch him.

 

“Yes, I am, because over the past week, I've run into you more often than I've not, and that leads me to believe you want in my pants so badly, you're willing to stalk me,” the brunette said, his face displaying his discomfort and anger freely.

 

“Well, that's rude,” the other said, arching in eyebrow. “I'm not stalking you. If I were stalking you, you'd see a lot more of me.”

 

“That's not creepy at all,” Dean replied, frowning at the other man. “Seriously, what the hell do you want?”

 

“Just to chat,” Castiel said with a shrug. “Saw you sitting over here when I came in, figured we could talk.”

 

“About what? The fact that you're a sex addicted stalker?” Dean asked, causing the raven-haired man to frown at that.

 

“Those aren't my only qualities, Dean,” he said, brow furrowed as he looked away from the brunette. He was falsely offended by the accusation the other had made. It was definitely true. That was the whole reason he had sex therapy to begin with. He had been caught peeping on someone and they had sentenced him to some jail time and counseling.

 

“Right, and what other redeeming qualities could you have over that?” Dean snapped, his glare seemingly penetrating Castiel's soul. Blue eyes diverted their gazed from green ones, unable to handle the intensity. He could go one of two ways with his response. There was the sarcastic and witty response that would likely get Dean to dislike him even more, or there was the 'oh woe is me' response that would hopefully invoke the pity of the brunette and possibly further his advances despite Dean's insistence to monogamy. He liked the second idea better.

 

“Some that you seem to want to overlook,” he responded, frowning as he looked back up at the younger man. “The fact that I'm getting help for my problems, court ordered or not. I'm trying to change myself, and that's why I'm trying to reach out to you. To see if I can establish any kind of non-sexual relationship.”

 

That had made Dean look away, clearly ashamed by his previous name-calling. It took all of Castiel's self-control to stop him from smirking as he looked down at the drink in his hand. Lifting it to his lips, it perfectly masked the smile that made its way to his face as the brunette looked back at him, apology dripping from his face.

 

“I-I'm sorry,” he said after a few moments of silence, and Castiel set his beer down with a tap against the bar.

 

“Don't be. Everyone makes unfair judgments at some point in their life,” he said nonchalantly, causing Dean's irritation level to rise again. “So what are you in therapy for?”

 

“Sex.”

 

“Well, obviously, but why? What happened that you need therapy?”

 

“Things.”

 

“Once again obvious, Dean. How about a non-evasive answer?”

 

They exchanged glances, Castiel offering him a smile as he knew he was pissing Dean off in the smallest way possible. It made him giddy to know he had that kind of effect on the other. That was what the thrill came from; not from the idea of having sex with everyone or anything he found attractive, but the idea that he had enough of an effect on someone to invoke that kind of comfort and lust. It was his egotism at work.

 

“Things that happened to land me in prison and while I was there,” Dean responded, looking away as he took a sip of his own drink.

 

“Oh. So you made butt-buddies,” Castiel said, causing the other to scowl at him. “Okay, not so much buddies.”

 

“Are you intentionally this obnoxious all the time?”

 

“I'm being obnoxious?” he asked, eyebrows raised as if though he didn't know he was agitating the other.

 

“I'm going to punch you.”

 

“I doubt that, you seem like the kind of guy who actually hates confrontation despite how much of a dick you can be,” Castiel said, smiling gently at him as the irritation grew to claim Dean's expression.

 

“What makes you think you know about me?” Dean asked, his hand clenched tight around the class that contained his whiskey.

 

“The fact that you're so easily readable. I see your face and I see your thoughts. The way you move is clearly telling me the fact that you had a not so nice prison trip for a very long time, and if you're in sex therapy for something that happened before and during prison, that likely means that your charge was sexually related, therefore it could be a number of things in the state of South Dakota.

 

“Now seeing as you're a quiet man, with seemingly troubling anger problems, that could mean you raped someone, but I don't see you as a rapist. You're a bit too much of a lover for that, so then it means maybe you did something to someone you love. Maybe you forced it on your lover when they weren't in the mood. Or maybe it's who your lover is in regards to you.”

 

There it was, the tell that Castiel had been waiting for as Dean diverted his eyes at the last statement.

 

“I see,” he said, chuckling lightly as he picked up his beer again, taking a long swig of it before setting it back down. “So who is it? Sister? Brother? Father? Mother? Please don't say child.”

 

“I'm not a father.”

 

“Thank God.”

 

There was silence between them for a moment before Castiel pushed on.

 

“I'm not judging you, Dean. I'm commending you, especially since you previously established that you're in a committed monogamous relationship with the person that you're with. I can only assume it is the same person that you went to prison for. Ten years, I believe, right? That's a long time to go without seeing your lover.”

 

“What would you know about having a lover?” Dean growled, his brow furrowed in frustration. “Why are you even trying to have this conversation with me?!”

 

“Because you're clearly not having it with our therapist, because you don't trust or know him. Dean, you have yourself open like a book to me. I'll ignore that insult about me not understanding what having a lover means, because clearly you don't understand nymphomania. I understand your problem, and I know you think you love your family member like that and that they love you back, but it's always-- _always_ facade, and you need to face that sooner rather than later, or you're gunna go down hill fast.”

 

“So you're essentially calling what I have a fraud,” Dean said, his anger boiling just beneath the surface. How dare Castiel think to judge him and what he had with Sam. No one knew, no one understood the emotional bond that they had, the _physical_ bond that they had.

 

“No, Dean, I'm not calling it a fraud. That would insinuate that it was entirely a lie, which clearly it wasn't, if they waited ten years for you. I'm simply saying that it's a show, for the both of you. It's a statement of 'well it happened once, but it wasn't just on a whim'. You seem like the kind of man that when you care for someone, truly care for them, the line of whether it's platonic or not is incredibly blurred. Am I wrong?”

 

The younger man just stared at the nymphomaniac, brow furrowed as he truly considered his words. Perhaps he wasn't wrong, but that didn't negate or invalidate his and Sam's relationship. There was love there, Castiel was wrong about that part. He did have a point about the way he treated people when he cared. It seemed the man was a lot more observant and smarter than he had once thought.

 

“No, you're not wrong,” he said after a few moments of careful consideration. “But you're not completely right, either. What Sam and I have is far more than you'd understand.”

 

Castiel's eyes narrowed at that, his mind racing with a multitude of thoughts at that statement. Here Dean was, trying to demean him against because of his rabid sexual desire, and it truly irked him. Perhaps it meant that Dean was truly unsure of himself and his relationship, so he had to justify it by negating other peoples' opinions.

 

“And why would I not understand it, Dean? Because I like to have sex? Did I ever mention to you that I had a relationship that lasted for eight years before he finally broke up with me by breaking my jaw? No? I didn't? That's right, so don't assume to know everything about me because of the label I've been given. One more time you demean me with it, and you will regret it,” the older man said, eyes having darkened with a quiet rage.

 

The silence that sat between them grew to the size of a horse before Dean uttered a very weak apology at that. Castiel's eyes analyzed him in the way he analyzed everyone, before he turned to the bar, flagging the barkeep. Ordering another drink, and another glass of whiskey for Dean, he turned back to the younger man, releasing a sigh.

 

“You see, you're are doing exactly what I am not: passing judgment. You assume to know me by what you've heard. I know you by what I see,” he said, running a hand over his face. “I don't pretend to know everything about you. I can't glean your childhood from your posture, and I can't read your entire past by the way you breathe, but what I can see is that you struggle daily with the choice of being with Sam because of what it's caused you. All I suggest is that you evaluate what matters most to you and what you're willing to sacrifice for him in return of what you get.”

 

Giving Dean a nod as the bartender sat a drink down in front of both them, he grabbed his beer and stood. He smirked and winked before heading out of the bar, alcoholic beverage in hand. Maybe Castiel had a point to all of this. As much as he loved Sam, was it worth the risk of possibly going back to prison, this time with Sam in tow? He just didn't know anymore.


End file.
